She's So High
by thewriterinme
Summary: AU! Sequel to COGH. Faberry's relationship in college takes a downturn. Now what?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello dear readers! **

**Here it is, the long-awaited sequel to Come On Get Higher (song I'm actually listening to right now:))! I can't promise to upload as frequently as I did COGH or ISL cause school's started! But hey! Guess what? One of you owes me the honor to have your child named after me: TWiM. **

**This probably won't be as long, but it is under Drama/Romance soo you've been fairly warned :p **

**Yes, yes - dear inpatient reader: Faberry IS endgame, just like we saw at the end of COGH.**

**Anyway, thank you Iza.G for reading this and giving me your honest opinion; thank you AlsoAngels for asking me about it and encouraging me to write it; thank you BSheep for your continuous support when it comes to COGH or ISL or even that secret fic we're brainstorming together; and thank you to all the rest of you who in some shape or form have asked me about it, encouraged me to write it, or simply just read COGH.**

**I love you allll!**

**Without further ado: **

**_A Sequel to Come On Get Higher: She's So High_**

_**Chapter 1 - Other Side of the World (KT Tunstall)**_

Other Side of the World (KT Tunstall)

I look out at my audience in this particular setting. I know she's here. I have to try this. No matter how many times I've tried speaking to her, she won't give me an in. This is my newest strategy.

I'm at a stupid party I don't actually want to be at, because Santana swore to me by her dead grandmother that she'd be here. Isn't it ironic that the one person who hated Quinn the most when she and I started dating knows more about her than I do?

I look at my "band," or the guys I contacted in the past week to practice this with me. They all seem to only be awaiting for my signal. I want to start; my nerves are building. Nerves shouldn't get to me anymore, with working on an off-Broadway - very soon to be on Broadway - show. But this is a different circumstance. I need to do this. And I want to just get it done with it, but I can't find her.

It took a while to let the party host to let me do this, but after a lot of persuasion by both Santana and I (and some light making out by Santana and Britt - I know, I'm ashamed I even asked), the guy let me.

As soon as I spot her, I give my band a quick nod and the guitar starts with the intro. I don't have to do much else to grab her attention but clear my throat quietly into the mic (provided by me, of course, as well as all the other audio stuff, that Jessie helped me set up). Hazel eyes burn into mine immediately, and I let her gaze sink in before coming in right on time.

_Give me love like her,_  
_'cause lately I've been waking up alone,_  
_Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,_  
_Told you I'd let them go,_  
_And that I'll fight my corner,_  
_Maybe tonight I'll call ya,_  
_After my blood turns into alcohol,_  
_No, I just wanna hold ya._

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_  
_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_  
_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love._

_Give me love like never before,_  
_'cause lately I've been craving more,_  
_And it's been a while but I still feel the same,_  
_Maybe I should let you go,_  
_You know I'll fight my corner,_  
_And that tonight I'll call ya,_  
_After my blood is drowning in alcohol,_  
_No I just wanna hold ya._

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_  
_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_  
_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_Give a little time to me, or burn this out,_  
_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_  
_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_  
_My my, my, my, oh give me love._

_M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,_  
_M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,_  
_M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover,_  
_M-my my, m-my my, m-my my, give me love, lover._

* * *

I've practically begged her to take me back, and yet she still seems cold. She's simply staring at me from where she stood through most of my performance. No. Not performance - my declaration. Ripping my heart open for her and letting it bleed with all the want in it, in the way I know best. I can't talk about it but I can sure as hell sing it.

The party has quieted down. Since I started singing to Quinn until now, not a word has been uttered. I smile at the owner of the apartment and he gives me a thumbs up before turning the loud music back on and people go back to dancing.

I take my time to her. First, I stop by the keg to grab some beer because, nerves. Then, I gulp half of it down.

"Hey," I say when I approach. I can see that she's nervous about letting me come too close.

She looks around at the raging party going on around us, trying to analyze in that way of hers if this is really happening. She looks so gorgeous in the teal tee and ripped jeans- casual is how I love her best. Her hair reflects the lights flicking on and off to the insistent beat of the song.

"Hi," she tells me, finally, after what seems like ages and doesn't linger her eyes on mine. Nervously, she licks her lips, like I knew she would, and tries to not look at mine. I know it; I know her. I miss the fuck out of her.

She isn't going to say anything else if I don't keep the conversation going (since I started it). My racing heart is competing to kill me faster than her stare. "How have you been, Quinn?" The taste of her name on my tongue, as it passes my lips, and leaves my mouth, feels intoxicating and it makes me want to just say it again for no reason other than to just say it. I have been purposely avoiding saying the damn name because of the reactions it causes on me, ever since she broke up with me.

She isn't willing to let this get carried away. I see it that she is struggling to stay there and I fucking hate it how much effort she has to make to be in my presence now.

Does she not fucking miss me like I miss her? Does she not fucking care? Did she not fucking love me? No. She did. She did love me. She does, I just know. I feel it. I need her to. I persist, "did you like the song? It's by Ed Sheeran. I sang it for you." I tell her that bit of info even though I know she knows.

"I've been good, Rachel." She replies succinctly, irking a rage within me. Knowing that she's been 'good' without me doesn't make me happy, and if that makes me selfish then fuck the world. I don't give a shit. She doesn't ask me back how I'm doing, and it hurts to know she doesn't care. She doesn't even acknowledge the song.

I frown, and ask, visibly hurt, "do you not miss me at all?" It comes out as a whisper, the anger practically tangible.

She winces at the question and looks around again, away, looking for something or someone. I see her fidgeting with her fingers, my chest constricts, my head feels like it'll burst. "Rach..." she starts, trying to not let me go there. Her eyes betray her feelings, as they've always have. Any other person looks into them and sees hazel, and I look into them and see everything: the stars (galaxies and galaxies of them), the hurt, the pretense, the memories, and how much she misses me.

"No, Quinn. Don't give me this bullshit." I say, slightly irritated, rising the hand holding onto the red cup, filled halfway with beer from a keg. I throw some hair over my shoulder with the free hand and look her up and down, disgusted. "Just tell me how you fucking feel."

"As I remember, Rachel," she spits back, with just as much disdain in her tone of voice, "you were the one who always had trouble expressing your feelings."

"I know I fucking suck at talking, okay? But I can sing and I sang for you! And - just. I'm here now and we can talk. We'll talk all you want."

She doesn't say anything for a while and I just wait. We stare at each other in a silent battle of egos until she says, "listen, Rach. Let's not do this here or now... Nothing good will come out of here so-"

I can tell she wants me to tell her I'll go and leave but I don't though. Because I'm not ready to, yet, and I just - I have to show her that I want her just as much now as I've always had. "Quinn, ask me how much I miss you." I try, with a different approach.

"I can't, Rachel," she says. It's been almost a month since we broke up, on terrible terms, really, and I haven't been able to get her out of my head - my thoughts, dreams, my longings, my memories. "I can't ask you that," she says and bites on that lower lips that I've always loved to love, kiss, bite, touch, lick.

"And why the fuck not?" I grit out through my teeth, squinting at her, pissed. I'm pissed at where we are; pissed I let it get here; pissed she is 'good.'

I'm not good. I haven't been good.

Santana shows up in my line of vision, behind Quinn, looking worried and like she's about to intervene. Even with all the bodies between us, she can sense how this can get ugly real bad. I simply shake my head at her - no -and she stops moving. I focus back on Quinn, who's still trying to come up with a stupid lame-ass excuse. "Just fucking say it, dammit." I urge.

"I can't because I'm afraid of how I'll react to your answer," she finally admits.

So there is hope. It's all I need. At least we're fighting again - means there's passion. We're still in this, no matter what she or anyone else says. "So you do miss me," I expel with a certain air of victory, smug. I cross my arms and dare her to say otherwise.

"Of course I do, Rachel. Every fucking day, are you happy now?" Without even asking, she takes my fucking beer and downs it, swiping the back of her hand over her mouth. It's sexy. It shouldn't be - considering the situation - but it is, and all I want to do is throw my body at hers and suck the beer off her lips.

"That was mine." I protest, without being actually upset at her for doing it. I think it's actually beautiful that she just claimed it like that, as if we're still together - as if she can.

And she can. She'll always can.

"You don't care," she tells me, pointing at me, and I nod in agreement, because I don't. "Look, Rachel," she tries again. "Maybe we should talk at another time, okay? Enjoy the party, go dance with some girl, and - I don't know. Just...let's not do this tonight. I'm tired of fighting." I hate it when she uses that tone of voice, raspy and pleading, combined with that look.

"So you don't care if I go dance with some random," I comment on her passing statement, lingering. I'm annoyingly persistent, I know that, but it's just to provoke her and continue reminding her that I'm still around.

"No, I don't, Rachel." She says, irritated. "We're not together anymore so it's none of my business who the hell you dance with." Rude. She says it all rude and shit, and I just hate her so much despite how much I love her.

Probably because of how much I still love her.

"Fine, be a fucking bitch then." Is what I say to her. I don't remember the last time I insulted her like this, meaning it, and with every intention of hurting her feelings. "Fuck you, Quinn."

She knows I'm not over her. And I know she's not over me. A month is definitely not enough fucking time for her to be over me. I scoff at her, and walk away, trying to keep some of my pride intact.

Before I make it back across the room to the keg, for a refill, Santana is grabbing me by the elbow. "You're not drinking anymore tonight."

"Fuck off," I say, taking my elbow back to myself. "I've only had half a cup."

"I know, but I don't want to see what you'd do with any more alcohol in you, you ass." She's upset and affected by the whole situation. Quinn and she have become incredibly closer over the year.

Quinn broke up with me in the beginning of February, just shy of our first year anniversary and her birthday. I had already bought her the gifts. I left them at the house anyway, the night of her party, with one of her cheerleaders. That night has been the first in a week that she contacted me. She thanked me for the lovely gifts over text and that was it.

She was - is - trying to move on. But I don't want to let her. And I won't. Not without fighting for her. I hear her voice echoing through my head: "I could, you know." Get over you. Is what she had told me once and it's come up in my thoughts consistently the past month. She said she would. I'm afraid she will. She can't, because I won't be able to.

I wasn't trying hard enough, she had said. She was tired of putting so much effort, and feeling like I didn't care enough. Same old, same old. I told her that I was just busy with the musical and school and she countered with the fact that she's also studying and she's the head cheerleader AND she is juggling a paid-internship at a small firm near campus. But somehow, she had said, she still made time for me; I was coasting through our relationship now.

Fuck that.

I hate the term, 'coasting.' I was present. I am present.

It's ridiculous, really.

We began to fight regularly right around Christmas time, when I didn't want her to go back to Ohio (again), and she didn't want me to stay in New York for the musical (again). But this time the musical was much more important than before because it had been successful and it continued to garner supporters, fans, and the attention of the media.

She went to Ohio. I stayed.

This time it was more strained than the first time, but we argued that if we made it through once, we could again. And this time it was only about two and a half weeks, compared to almost half of summer.

"I won't do anything stupid, San." I defend myself and pour the beer even as she glares at me.

"So, speaking to Quinn - what, does that go under the 'not stupid' category?" I fucking hate it when Santana starts speaking to me like this, so I show her my middle finger, and walk away.

The party is boring, at least so far.

At some point, I make eye contact briefly with a short black-haired girl on the other side of the dance floor with 'fuck me' eyes. It's only when I look back and realize that she's still staring that I make my way over.

Now standing in front of her, I smile, in that charming way from before Quinn, and introduce myself, already claiming possession of her waist with the empty hand. "Rachel Berry," I say it in her ear, with a giggle in my voice and second intentions in my mind. "What's your name?" It's hard talking when the music is so loud, vibrating through every cell of my body, but she nods as I speak to let me know she can hear.

"Hailey Gordon, but most people call me Hey."

"Hey, as in - the greeting?" I ask, sort of laughing, but completely intrigued by her.

She smiles as pulls away a little to look at me in the eyes and nods. When she comes closer again, resting her warm cheek against my own, she says, "I saw you talking to Quinn Fabray; you guys used to date, right?"

I shake my head against hers, wanting to forget all that, and take a long gulp of the sweet nectar in my hand, to give me time to avoid the question. "But we don't anymore," I say. "So, Hey, do you dance?" I point behind me, and she looks bashful for just a second.

"I'm afraid I'm really bad at it," she says without convincing me. "I'd need instructions."

With a sly smile and the conviction I'm the best dancer, I grab her hand and lead her past the people to the middle of the dance floor.

I position myself in front of her, and hold her hands, having discarded my beer cup along the way, and start stepping side to side to the beat. "You're doing pretty well," I compliment her.

We get closer and close as the song progresses and gets heavier. I let go of her hands and move mine down her body, pressing her closer. The way her body moves against mine drives me crazy, and it makes me thirsty - for water, for her, to forget the other one.

When I glance to the right, in the middle of a song that Hey is grinding into me hardcore - her ass pressed into my front (suddenly she knew how to dance) - I catch Quinn looking. She's leaning on a blank space on the wall, sipping on water from a bottle. One of her eyebrows raise at me, and I can't be bothered by her look. She can't be upset. She told me to dance, she's trying to move on so I have every right to. I just send her a closed-lip smile and turn my attention back to Hey.

"You lied, babe." I tell Hey, smirking at the way her hand snakes up and around my neck to hold me closer. "You know how to dance."

"I do," she giggles. I feel it more than actually hear it. I decide to go for it, because the best way to get over someone...

"Do you want to get out of here? I live about a block from here." Mike isn't home tonight, I'm almost one hundred percent sure.

By this point I'm simply hovering my hands over her waist, watching her move deliciously against me and my desire grows with each second that passes.

"Yeah," she says breathlessly, so I take her by the hand and we leave, passing right by Quinn.

I don't look at her, but on my way to not looking I her, I see Santana looking at me with the biggest disappointed look sketched on her face.

* * *

I don't let her control. I take her roughly up against my front door, then somehow we make it to my bedroom, where I take her on my bed. Twice.

She is the polar opposite of Quinn - in looks and personality, but I almost slip-up when I come a second time.

Quinn's name almost tumbles out of my mouth in my ecstasy, but I catch myself when I open my eyes and see dull brown staring back.

* * *

"Was she at least good in bed?" Santana shakes me awake with that question.

Hey is still next to me. I groan because I shouldn't have let her stay. "San," I hiss, and make a gesture for her to leave.

"Get up, let's go." She orders me, and doesn't stop shaking me. It's making me even more frustrated, but I get up to make her stop.

I pull up my panties and jeans, watching carefully to see if Hey wakes up with my absence beside her. "Where the fuck are we going?"

"Brunch." She turns around and leaves me alone at last. Only when I go pick up my discarded The Smiths shirt, do I realize that Hey is waking up.

The worst part of it is that she looks thoroughly fucked and still gorgeous. She blinks slowly, trying to understand what's going on. It wouldn't be hard for me to like a girl like this if I wasn't so hung up on another one who looked even prettier after a night of sex.

I'm not exactly heartless, so I lean over her and kiss her quickly on the lips, "Morning, gorg. I have to go to brunch with my friend. I'll call you, alright? Stay as long as you need."

There's barely even time for her to comprehend what I just said when Santana barges in again, pulling me by the hand. "Bye," she tells Hey with a sarcastic smile.

* * *

"You could start learning to be nice to the girls I'm going to start seeing." I say when we're outside of my apartment building, Santana looking like she's deciding where to go still.

"Well, well. Start seeing huh?"

"Yeah."

Santana pulls the coat she's wearing closer to her body and scrutinizes with those brown eyes of hers. "Whatever happened to fighting for Quinn? How do you intend on fighting by sleeping with other chicks, you idiot?"

We start walking South together, making our way to Fred's, a breakfast joint we both enjoy. They serve the best omelets. "I don't really know what I'm doing, San. I just want one of two things: be with her, or be over her. And I know that right now, neither one of those options is going to happen."

"Rach, you're my best friend," she starts as she opens the door of the diner. "So I have the right to tell you when you're being ridiculous. After you left with the chick last night, Quinn spent the night crying in Britt's arms."

I stare at Santana at the front of the diner, and a waitress awkwardly waits for us to pick a table to sit. I stay quiet.

Santana chooses a spot and I follow her, unable to come up with anything to say to the information she just disclosed. "I'm with her all the time, and she's fucking devastated."

"She has a way of showing -" I say while looking over the menu, even though I already know what I'll order.

"You don't make it easy. She's just hurt right now. Maybe you should try being her friend."

I stop looking to stare at Santana. Friends? Quinn and I don't know how to be friends. I don't want to just be her friend. I want all of her. "I can't just be her friend."

"Can't or won't?" She's said that to me before. Once, when Quinn and I weren't speaking. I hate it that she knows me - us - so well.

"Can't and won't," I reply, stubborn as ever.

The waitress comes back with a small yellow notepad and a blue pen and asks us if we know what we want. I order a spinach and chicken omelet and black coffee, Santana gets their Marvelous Meat Omelet, with every kind of meat available in it, and coffee.

"Well, anyway," I try to change subjects. "Last night - me leaving with Hey, was all her fault."

Santana blinks at me and hands the menu to the waitress. "Hold up," she says with a snicker. "That's her name? Hey?"

"Yeah," I say and shrug. "It's Hailey, but people call her Hey or whatever. I think it's cute."

"O-kay," she rolls her eyes and her sleeves up, after taking off her coat, and continues. "And how is it Quinn's fault again?"

"She told me to go dance," I say as if it's a sufficient answer.

"How - wait. How exactly does that mean 'take a girl home and fuck her'?" She scrunches her eyes at me, not understanding my behavior at all (and honestly, I don't really understand it either).

"I asked her if she didn't care who I danced with and she said she doesn't because we're not together anymore..." I elaborate. "If she doesn't care who I dance with then it's none of her business who I sleep with. She can't get upset."

"How would you feel if she had left with someone, Rachel? Think about it like that."

I stay quiet and politely smile up at the waitress in her mid-thirties, but who could pass as a 50 year old, when she brings my coffee. I drink it slowly, maintaining eye contact with Santana, because I don't want to respond.

She's right. Of course she is, but I won't give her the satisfaction.

How would I feel? I think. I'd be pissed, obviously. I'd probably throw a tantrum and make sure that the girl heard that Quinn still loves me. I'd make Santana make Quinn stop. I'd cry on Britt's shoulder and call Kurt to cuss her out. I'd probably end up crying all week in my room, and Mike and Tine would have to come pry me out to eat. Jesse would have to come over to feed me.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a familiar voice call me out from the door. I look up, and I'm surprised to see Gaea smiling and waving at me. She sees me because I'm facing the door, and Santana has her back to her, so I stand, and point at her so Santana can come say hi too.

We meet her halfway and she hugs us both excitedly. It's been a while since I've seen her, and we've never been close friends (in fact, I didn't like her for a long time because I was sure she liked Quinn), but it actually is nice to see her. She looks a little more tan right now than when I saw her last, before Christmas break. The darker hue of her skin really brings out the light color of her eyes.

"Hello, Gaea. It's so nice to see you," I say and hug her. She hugs me back and shares the sentiment and then hugs Santana.

"I haven't seen you guys in ages. How's everything?" She asks, her eyes smiling as big as her lips.

"Good," Santana replies before I say anything. "Everything's great with me."

"What about you, Rachel? I mean, where is Quinn?" She frowns, confused at the absence of my ever-present (ex-) girlfriend and looks over my shoulder to see if she missed her.

"I," I stutter, nervous, "I - we're... She and I are not longer seeing each other, so." I'm surprised Quinn didn't tell her or she hasn't heard it through the grapevine.

"What?" Her round eyes get bigger and she immediately apologizes for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. Are you -" she hesitates but asks anyway. "Are you okay?"

"Well," I sigh. "As okay as I can be, really."

Santana interrupts here, "hey, looks like our food's ready." I look behind and the waitress is setting our plates on the table. She looks at Gaea again, "want to join us?" She's just being polite. I know she doesn't want her to accept.

Gaea isn't dumb. She shakes her head, "no, I'm just going to grab something to go."

"It was nice talking to you," Santana offers and gives me a pointed look before retreating back to our little booth.

"Yeah, you too." Gaea says to her back. When she looks at me, I see how concerned she is, but I can't tell who she's concerned for: me, Quinn, or both. She pulls out a pen from her purse and grabs a napkin quickly from the counter. She scribbles something on it and hands it over. "Here, my number just in case you wanted to talk."

"Thanks," I say, softly. "I'll see you around."

She's already turning to the counter, "see you."

I make my way back to Santana and our eggs and sit, sticking the napkin into my back pocket. "How is it?" I ask, referring to the food.

"What's that?" She asks, pointing at the hand that's now empty, on its way back from my pocket. Chewing very unlady-like, Santana raises her eyebrows waiting for a response.

"Nothing," I dismiss it.

"You're not actually thinking about calling her..." Santana comments, shaking her head, and I take my first bite of the delicious food.

I laugh, "chill the fuck out, Santana. It's just in case I need to talk."

"She's Quinn's friend, Rachel. That'd be so wrong."

I ignore it and go back to eating.

* * *

Hey becomes my fuck-buddy, for lack of a better term. I couldn't say friends with benefits, because we are not friends. As long as no one gets too attached we're good, because I can't afford to start liking another girl when I'm still hung up on my ex. Hardcore.

She usually leaves before I'm awake now. The first time was a one-time thing. It is important - to both she and I - that Mike isn't up and in the kitchen when she leaves. She met him that Sunday all by herself and it had been awkward because he remains a Team Quinn. They know each other for years, so his side is obvious (and apparently everyone forgets that she ended things with me).

* * *

It's another three weeks after that when I see Quinn again. This time I make it a point that she sees I see her but am purposefully avoiding her. So I do want her back, but my ego is a little bruised and I can be a bit stubborn at times. I have my dignity to think of here.

Barely raising her cup of coffee from where she is, is her way of acknowledging me.

The bitch.

Soon, she's looking back at her book, sitting on her corner of the coffee shop (that was mine first, but whatever).

There is a heavy weight on my chest. I turn, before even ordering, and make way for the door. A song begins speaking loudly over the speakers. Of course it'd be this song. My hand hovers over the door handle only for the introduction of our damn song. I look torward Quinn, who's already looking at me with pained eyes, brimmig with tears carrying apologies and pityness in them. I'm out of there as the singer begins; it's impossible to hear If You're Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To) and not be assaulted by so many of our memories together.

* * *

_I think I better leave right now_

_Before I fall any deeper_

_I think I better leave right now_

_I'm feeling weaker and weaker_

_Somebody better show me out_

_Before I fall any deeper_

_I think I better leave right now_

The song is on repeat. It's my life's anthem at the moment. I've made the decision, after two and a half months of not being with Quinn that I need to just get out of this - whatever we're in.

I've made a decision and I'm sticking with it.

The pictures finally come down.

* * *

"When was the last time you actually talked though?" Kurt insists, over a bite of his sandwich, and three other familiar caring eyes stare at me waiting for a response. Sitting around the small round table are Jesse, Blaine, and Kurt. It's late evening, and we're grabbing dinner before going to the show. Blaine has to get to a night class after this, but he usually eats with us for Kurt.

I think about it. "At a party, maybe three months ago? We had broken up a month before."

Blaine reaches across the table, seeking my hand and I give it to him, "Honey, I think it's time you move on. I love Quinn - we all do, but -" he sighs, heavily. It's like he thinks he has to be the bearer of the bad news.

"I'm trying," I say, defensively, frown, and pull my hand away. I wrap my fingers around my Veggie Wrap, and take a large-sized bite. "I'm trying really hard," I reiterate, speaking while chewing.

"Chew first; talk later, Chip." Jesse says, tapping his fingers on the table. He's been done with his salad for a while.

I groan, feeling like a child, "whatever." I mumble. I've been constantly this angry since the break up. I was not this fucking sad before, and I blame Quinn for breaking me significantly.

"Babe," Jesse says, softly, and my eyes lift from the table to his. "Just take it slowly. Let's all go out tonight for drinks. Maybe you can invite that girl you've been seeing."

"Not seeing - fucking." Kurt corrects him before I even have the chance to agree or disagree with his plans.

"Cheers," I say sarcastically in my best British accent and raise my cup of tea. Quinn hates tea. She would probably not kiss me until I brushed my teeth after drinking this. My train of thought just makes me lose my appetite and I drop the wrap on the basket they serve it on. "I don't know, Jesse..." I don't want to invite Hey along. She's not supposed to be complicated. She's supposed to be an easy lay.

"Come on, even if you don't invite your fuck-buddy, bring a friend. I want to go to the Stonewall. I've been single longer than you." He smiles, that charming smile and I regret my decision already.

* * *

"Hey, is this Gaea?" I ask as soon as the connection is made.

She chuckles on the other side and guesses, "Rachel. You finally make use of my number."

Santana and Britt are out on a date night, and I can't invite Hey out. Not options: Quinn, for obvious reasons; Tina, because Mike would be upset; Mercedes because Sam also took Quinn's side.

The show just ended, it's almost 11 PM, and I'm in fresh clothes: a dark long-sleeve shirt with a gray scarf around my neck. I grab my favorite leather jacket from the chair, and sit on the couch in my small dressing room to tie my shoes. I can't at the moment, because of the phone, so I cross a leg over the other and focus on the conversation. "Are you busy tonight?" I go straight to the point. I'm not asking her out on a date (technically I am, but well).

"Not doing anything extremely important," she responds. "Why?"

"Some friends and I are going out for drinks at The Stonewall. I was wondering if you, maybe, wanted to come with me."

"Rachel Berry, are you asking me out?"

"Sure," I admit easily. "I can ask you out, right? Friends do that."

I can practically hear her smirk on the other side. "I was always under the impression you didn't like me very much..." she admits.

I concede, "I didn't. Not when I thought you wanted my girl - ex-girlfriend. But you are a beautiful girl, and I don't feel like going alone, so will you or will you not come?"

She's silent for a few seconds and then says, "I'll meet you there."

* * *

Just as I'm making my way up to the entrance, Gaea shows up in a ridiculously hot, little black dress with a dark coat, around the corner. I stop, near the door where a bouncer is scanning for IDs and appreacite the view. I lick my lips, and wonder how I ever not gave her much credit before. She can really clean up. Red lips are distracting, I note.

"Hi," she says from a few feet away.

"Hi, yourself." I say. "You look... Really good." I gulp visibly, and rake my eyes over her again, checking her out.

Moments like these, when I find myself in front of hot girls (even if they're not my usual type: blonde, tall, hazel eyes), I forget about a certain girl (blonde, tall, hazel eyes).

She smiles, eyes falling to the ground for a beat, and then she brings them right back up. "We should... Talk. Before going in. To be sure where each of us stands. So it doesn't confuse anyone."

This is what I was dreading when I had thought about calling her earlier. Of course she's also going to be on Quinn's side of this entire ordeal, and she's about to ditch me, but she didn't want to do so over the phone.

I'm getting colder standing outside and I'm in jeans and jacket, so I can only imagine how she feels. "We can talk inside?" I offer, not really fond of the idea of staying out here any longer. Inside will probably be loud and dark and maybe then she'll forget.

She shakes her head, "it'll be quick, I promise."

I nod, giving up, and follow her to lean against the wall of the establishment next to The Stonewall. "So." I say, biting my lower lip in expectation.

"I just want to know why you wanted to ask me out on a date."

"I told you -"

"I know what you told me. But Quinn, she's my friend. Well, she and I haven't talked in a while but I still consider her a friend."

"I thought you were seeing some dude," I say to try to get her to stop talking about Quinn.

She dismisses that quickly, "that dude was from ages ago." Not ages. They were together at the beginning of the last semester.

"I thought you were straight," I try again, and she responds just as quick as my first inference.

"I don't like labels. Stop trying to change subjects. I - I guess I'm asking what this is for you. A date with intent of another to follow, a one-night thing which ends with us on your bed, or a night which we'll each go back to our own and never speak of it again."

Too much pressure for one girl. I share a sly smile with her and try to seduce her with my vile ways, "Gaea, come on. There's no need to get all -"

It doesn't work because she interrupts me quickly. "It does. Because I don't want to be your rebound girl. And if that's all I am, I need you to tell me right now; give me a fair warning."

"You're not," I reassure her.

"Are you using me to get to Quinn?"

"No," I tell her. I had never considered Gaea as a potential girlfriend, probably because of me always thinking she had eyes for Quinn, but it seems like she didn't. "I don't know why I called you earlier, but now that you're here, I'm glad." I smile, and it seems to convince her because she smiles back and takes my hand, leading us to the door.

I follow behind, letting her drag me (usually I'm the one doing the dragging), and she says, "I've always thought you were cute and interesting but you were always googly-eyes at Quinn..." she nods at the bouncer who just lets us through - cutting in front of a long line - and I must look astonished because she laughs when she looks at me. "I'm kind of a regular here." She laughs again, before continuing. "Do you think Quinn will be pissed at me?"

"Yeah," I say without thinking. She stops walking to look at me and I quickly try to explain my answer. "Well, I don't know. But maybe you should talk to her about this anyway."

"It's just an outing," Gaea excuses us. "She has no reason to."

"And it's not like it's exclusive. I'm sure you're seeing other people."

"Totally. And you, too. We're just... hanging."

"Yeah, okay."

We stop talking and make our way to the bar together. She orders us both beer and I don't complain. The bartender cards her, and she provides a fake ID, while I smile behind her, looking coy.

* * *

The night is wonderful. After a few beers, and a couple of shots, I'm well on my way to Drunkville. Gaea is not as drunk as I am, but is getting there. Jesse tells me it's time to stop and swaps my current bottle of beer for a bottle of plain, boring, dull water. "Santana warned me that you'd act like this around alcohol," he mumbles mostly to himself but I hear him.

"Yeah, yeah." I say, "you were the one who wanted me to come out. Here I am!" I throw my arms up in the air with exaggerated actions.

"Okay," he says. "You're really doing a fine job in keeping any potential suitors away from me, since I have to keep babysitting you. I should've just let you sulk in your apartment one more night."

"Jesse," I whine. "You're never this mean to me." Gaea hangs onto my arm as we laugh at my stupid tone of voice. I look at her and her eyes shine.

"Because you're frustrating me," he tells me. "I'm going to go find the Wonder Twins so they can babysit you. This is getting fucking ridiculous."

I gasp at his cussing; he rarely does that.

Gaea pokes my cheek, "I think you made him mad."

I poke hers back, "I think you should leave with me."

"Mkay," she says and smiles.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up sore to the sound of Benji and Bandit scratching at my door. My head is killing me and I'm thirsty as hell.

Instead of getting water to parch my thirst, I decide that I want to take Gaea out for a nice breakfast where I can get tons of coffee. And by nice I mean omelets at that breakfast joint that San and I ran into her the other day. I know she likes there, and I like there. "Come on," I shake her shoulder and she barely opens her right eye, squinting with the sunlight hitting her eyes. "Let's go, I'm starving."

My white sheets barely cover her naked body. It's kind of a sight to see. I stare. She opens her eyes with a smirk and I blush. "You have a way of waking people up."

"Just pretty girls I bring home," I wink. "Seriously though. I never take them out to breakfast but I want to take you."

She gulps hard and stares me down, "really?" She doesn't hide her skepticism.

"Yes."

"Okay," she smiles. "I guess I can do free breakfast."

We pass by the dogs on our way out and Gaea stops to pet them. She does stop, but she doesn't linger. And I get a pang of missing Quinn because that girl loved spending hours with the babies.

Mike is in the kitchen, and he averts his eyes when we hold hands, "I'll walk the dogs."

* * *

And then it only gets awkward because we run into Quinn at the breakfast joint.

I immediately let go of Gaea's hand when I spot her. She's walking out of the place and we're just coming in. Her eyes fall to our hands, now in pockets. "Oh, hi." She blinks and I can read she's putting up a wall. "Rachel, Gaea." She sounds confused, and she looks betrayed, and I regret last night.

"Quinn," I say and step forward.

I bet Gaea is regretting the night before. "Hey, Quinn. We haven't spoken in a while, how have you been?"

"Why are you out with her?" Quinn asks me, throwing a dangerous glare at Gaea.

"Woah, Quinn." I tell her and put a hand up to keep her from doing anything stupid. "She's my friend. We're getting breakfast."

Her eyebrows quirk up with skepticism, her lips purse in a way I know she thinks I'm lying. "So there's nothing going on between you two?"

That's when I remember her telling me to 'go dance with a random' because it doesn't matter to her anymore. Or it shouldn't anyway. But here she is now,a couple months after our breakup, when I'm finally trying to move on, making a big deal about it. So what if I'm moving on with a friend of hers? She has absolutely no right to say anything about it at all. "If there is, it's none of your business." I tell her through clenched teeth.

"Listen, Quinn," Gaea starts. Quinn narrows her eyes in her direction. "I know this is kind of weird but -"

She chuckles, "weird? It's fucking weird! She hates you!" She says and gestures at us. "She's never liked you and now she's taking you out to breakfast?!" She gives half a smile and then nods once, "Yeah, okay. That's gonna last. I'm going to go now."

With another look, she puts on those damn aviators and walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: To everyone pissed about Rachel's reaction, this is how she was before Quinn. She's reverting to her old lifestyle to get over the girl.**

**I know I'm going to get sooo much shit for everything that's happening, but you HAVE BEEN WARNED. Here and on my about me. :) Just trust me, guys. Everything will work itself out, and you just have to remember they're human and this story is FABERRY. Promise. Oh, also, I don't mind critics, but I do love me when someone leaves a heartwarming review telling me they like my story. So thank you to all of you who make me smile.**

**-TWiM**

**P.S.: Also, I'm using this story to shamelessly promote my new fic: If I Were A Boy. It's the one I was talking about a while earlier that was a surprise. I posted the first chapter. Read it and let me know what you think.;)**

**ALSO, thank you to Iza.G for reading this in advance and making me post it. :)**

Chapter 2 - Heartbreak Warfare (John Mayer)

It's really cold outside and my hair is wet. I forgot a scarf and I'm starving so I stop on my way to class to get a coffee and breakfast burrito at Fred's. I'm having a terrible morning and all I need is some good food and a hot drink.

My morning gets worse as I'm leaving because I run into Rachel and... Gaea. They're holding hands but then Rachel notices me and drops Gaea's hand.

"Oh, hi." I say, startled by the surprise. I can't bear to look at them. But I can't seem to look away. "Rachel, Gaea." Those fingers now buried in her pockets belong interlaced with mine. I know I was the one who broke up with her and I know I urged her to move on.

I fucking lied.

I'm not over it at all. It's selfish of me to not be with her and not want her to be with anyone else, I know that.

Rachel tries to take a step forward as she says my name and I try to ignore my body's response to her voice saying it. "Quinn." I avoid looking at her in the eye, too hurt to do so.

Gaea speaks next, and just having her acknowledge me is making me want to punch the daylights out of her. "Hey, Quinn. We haven't spoken in a while, how have you been?"

Before I can help myself, I'm asking Rachel a question that is not my business. Through clenched teeth, the words spill out, "Why are you out with her?" I'm jealous, but I'm out of control of my words at the moment. I throw Gaea a dangerous glare, one I reserve for those I despise. She seems to cower at my look.

Rachel steps in and puts up a hand. it hovers over my chest, not close enough to touch but close enough for me to miss it. "Woah, Quinn. She's my friend. We're getting breakfast."

I can't help the skepticism that pours out, my eyebrows irking in annoyance at being lied to. I know she's lying, "So there's nothing going on between you two?"

A flash of something crosses Rachel's eyes. At this point Gaea has been forgotten and all that exists in the world is Rachel and I. She seems angry when she reminds me, "If there is, it's none of your business." I know she's right but I don't back down. Something bigger than me has taken control. Rachel's heart belongs to me. Or it did, until I gave it back to her. Or rather, threw it at her. Damn, what did I do?

"Listen, Quinn," Gaea starts, trying to placate me. I'm standing with my feet apart and fists balled next to my side. "I know this is kind of weird but -"

Even to my own ears, I sound bitter. I chuckle, "Weird? It's fucking weird! She hates you!" I remember clearly the many times Rachel was ambivalent of Gaea because she thought Gaea liked me... and now this? It just doesn't seem to make sense in my brain. "She's never liked you and now she's taking you out to breakfast?!" I search Rachel's eyes for understanding, accidentally letting my sadness show as I half-smile at her, "Yeah, okay. That's gonna last. I'm going to go now."

Before I put on my sunglasses, I linger one last look on their standing forms. They look devastated. I walk around them, trying and failing miserably not to care that my good friend betrayed me, or that my ex didn't care enough to keep away from my friend.

As soon as I find myself on the street, my feet take off. Running. Breathless and disheveled, I arrive at Britt's, hoping to find comfort in a friend who I know will always be there for me.

I knock on her door obnoxiously, tears streaming down my face. I'm angry at myself for showing Rachel how much I care. And I'm fucking pissed at Rachel for where we are now. I feel like puking.

The door opens and I faintly register brown hair before crashing into someone's arms. "Gaea, huh?" She asks me in a tone of voice that gives away she knew of this development and kept it from me to protect me. It makes me both mad and happy. I cry in her arms for the first time. This has never happened before since Santana doesn't like it, and usually neither do I. But, we'e grown closer to each other even after the breakup - she's never let her friendship with Rachel affect ours. "The bitch," she murmurs, and even without her saying it out loud, I understand she's inferring to both her best friend and her new girlfriend. Without letting me go she closes the door behind me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. Sorry about barging in, crying, being weak, letting her go.

She shushes me, running a hand down my back, "I know. I know, she's sorry too, you know? This is how she deals..."

I'm sure she means to make me feel better but instead I flare up. "If she's sorry why did she move on?" I practically scream at her, asking for an answer I don't really want. I know why.

She detangles herself from me only enough to look me in the eyes. She holds me at arm's length and I can see she's afraid I'll run out on her. "You told her to," she whispers, almost as if in pain for me; for us. "You practically threw her at Gaea's arms. She didn't want to. She's always wanted you - from the very beginning. Gaea was a way to mend a broken heart. Maybe you should-"

"No." I interrupt her. "Don't tell me to go talk to her. I can't. It hurts to just be around her. To look into wide brown eyes that read me like a book."

"You should talk to her," she reinforces, stressing the word 'talk' and giving my arms a light, encouraging squeeze.

I don't really want to hear any of it. At this, I pull back from her and cross my arms around myself, "where's Britt?"

"She had an emergency class to taken over for one of her professors," she says, looking annoyed that I'm trying to change subjects. She crosses her arms too, and purses her lips before saying, "I know her better than anyone." Her voice is cold, in a one-eighty shift from when I got here. It's taken a protective quality - edgy, threatening, quiet. "And she is my best friend. What she's doing with Gaea is not wrong - you told her to and you're broken up. You have been for almost four months now; you can't be upset." I shift my weight, anger rising within me. I wanna yell at her, but before I can, she continues, "It's not wrong but it's fucking dumb. Everyone ends up hurt and frankly, I'm tired of seeing her hurt others and herself." We both take steadying breaths before she finishes, "So, do something. And do it fast."

* * *

It's another two days before I talk to Santana again.

Of course I was mad at her! If there's one thing I have a lot of is pride. And she took my pride, stabbed it, and twisted the knife at it.

And fuck if I say I don't know what I did wrong. I did. I should've fought for Rachel when I had the chance; when I had her; when she wanted me. I hastened in the decision of breaking up with her when I had proof from previous moments that our love was strong and it could handle anything.

I blamed Rachel of coasting through the relationship but the truth is that I was the one who quit too early. I got tired and checked out.

Not having Rachel was hard. Pretending I didn't want to talk to her, not wanted to see her? Telling her to go find someone else?! I didn't think she actually would. I'm the one supposed to fucking move on fast. She's wasn't supposed to.

Well, she did and I didn't.

Joke's on me, isn't it?

"Stop it," Santana says from across the small table in the library. Without looking up at me, she tells me, "I can hear you beating yourself over what happened. Just stop it and get your girl back."

"Isn't it too late now?" I ask. I'm self-conscious. Who says she'll want me now after all the heartache I've caused her because I'm selfish?

I have no reasoning for it. What if I only want her back now because Gaea has her and I'm upset?

No. That's not true. Rachel and I belong with each other.

Santana sighs and adjusts the black-rimmed glasses on her nose, "Q, please. I'm trying to study. I have finals coming up and so do you. I can't study with Britt because she wants to have sex all the time. I can't study with Rachel because she's been moody all the time; or she's with-" she stops herself and I look away to gain control of my emotions. "And apparently I can't study with you! I only have three friends - the Wonder Twins and Mike don't count, alright? Anyway, please, let me just work on my fucking review?"

I gulp, getting ready to apologize.

Then she says, "it's never too late, you idiot."

* * *

My plan is flawed. My plan is fucking cliche, if I've ever seen one. My plan is actually a rip-off of her plan. Except I know that she enjoys being serenaded and big romantic gestures. Before we talk, I need to give her a reason to give me another chance.

I'm fidgeting with my fingers when Sam walks into the practice room I reserved in the music building.

"Hey," he says, curious tilt to his head. "Is everything okay?"

I smile as I hand him the chords to the song. "I plan on getting my girl back. It's an ultimatum kind of song. I was wondering if you'd play it for me."

He beams and pulls the guitar around his torso, figuring out chord patterns and which sounds better which way. After a while looking it over, he nods and says, "Sure, Q. We can totally pull this off."

_"_There's an open Mic happening at the Union this weekend. Do you think we can be ready by then? Santana said Rachel's singing then, and so I know she'll be there."

He sits on the piano bench and strums the first chord, "Let's practice this, shall we?"

* * *

"Just so you know, I'm proud of you for doing this, Q." Britt tells me as she runs her fingers over my hair, messing it up on purpose. I'm wearing a white dress with a light red cardigan with the buttons undone over it.

I'm nervous, thinking of the lyrics again.

And yeah, I'm not sure I've forgiven Rachel one hundred per cent about Gaea and where we are, but I have fault to share. "Proud of what?" I ask, not really listening to her as I should be.

She hands me the black eyeliner and sits on the vanity, facing me. I start to apply the eyeliner, opening my mouth slightly so. Her knees are at my shoulder's height, and she keeps swinging her legs, lightly hitting my knees in rhythm.

"Proud of you going after Rachel," she says as if it's just that simple. "I think it takes guts to admit you messed up."

"Yeah," I mumble. "Am I an asshole?" I ask, after my right eye is done.

"A little, you know?" She giggles behind a hand. The other pushes some of her bangs away from those blue eyes. "But, love is greed. You gotta be a little selfish sometimes."

I purse my lips, look at Britt who's smiling at me, and then at my reflection in the mirror. "Why couldn't I have just kept her with me when I had her? Why did I have to fucking break her heart to realize I want her?"

With a sad smile she tells me, "you know, sometimes we make mistakes. You're human, babe. You got confused. It happens."

That's not necessarily what I was wanting to hear, but I'll take it.

* * *

When I come in the big room, the first person I look for is her. She has to be here, Santana said she'd be here.

"Quinn?" Someone calls out behind me.

I turn, immediately angry at the voice, and am met with someone I hadn't expected to see here.

"Gaea." I should've known.

I feel my entire body tighten. I want to punch her! How dare she come up to me! She must be insane. She's asking for a slap across her face. My jaw hurts with how hard I'm clenching it.

"Please," she puts up her hands and then smiles, "before you kill me, will you just hear me out?"

"There's nothing you have to say that I could possibly want to hear," I say and start to make my way around her. She stops me by the elbow and it takes everything in me not to end her right there.

"What's going on here?" Rachel. I whip around to see her upset brown eyes darting between Gaea's hand on my elbow and my eyes. I can see burning passion in them, but I'm not sure if it's still for me. "Let her go, Gaea." With the order, my arm is released, and the opposite hand goes to my elbow to caress it.

"I was just trying to speak to her about the situation," Gaea turns to Rachel, who grabs her hand and interlaces their fingers. It hurts. It takes my heart and it twists it. I can feel it tear. I guess Rachel had time since Sunday to make a decision about Gaea; she didn't seem so sure on Sunday.

"I don't care about what you have to say," I tell her once again and then face Rachel. "Rachel," my tone is assertive, "can we go talk?" My eyes beg her to come with me, they need her to come along. "Please."

"That's funny, Quinn," she says, lighthearted and really fucking sarcastic. "I quite recall trying to talk to you at a party early in the semester - after seranding you - and you walking away. Now I have nothing to say to you." Her eyes narrow, and the passion that was in there is gone.

Within me, rage. "You know what? Fine. Just -" Damn it. I don't want to stutter. I don't want to give in how affected I am by the turn of events. Rachel didn't wait for me. She took advice I gave her. What was I thinking, expecting a girl like Rachel to never move on from me?

"I'm sorry," Gaea tells me, looking truly apologetic. "I know you don't want to hear it but I really am. I hope we can get over this and be friends again one day."

I scoff, cross my arms, and look away. God, where's Santana when I need her? Anyone really, to get this bitch away from me before I fucking stab her. Why is she so perfect? I can't deny it that she is gorgeous, all tan skin and light eyes. She's nice, too. Sure, she's Brutus but she's got a conscience.

"Let's go take a seat," Rachel speak to Gaea's ear, softer than the tone she had been using earlier. "I'm up first, so-" Rachel seems to have trouble focusing again and then looks at me, knives in her glare. "I'll see you around."

I still can't bear to make the eye contact. I wait until Rachel takes Gaea away to their table near the front. From where I am standing, I watch in pain as they smile at each other. Gaea caresses Rachel's arms, comforting her, it seems. The touches, the looks, inside jokes, stolen kisses which were meant for me being given away to Gaea.

Forget serenading her. Maybe I should take my own advice and find someone else.

* * *

The only reason why I stayed is because Santana and Britt forced me. They're making me sing. They're making me watch Rachel sing. "Painful? I don't give a fuck. You made me sign you up and - Q, you're here! Might as well."

"Fine, whatever. But I'm changing songs. And you're singing with me," I poke an index finger into Santana's shoulder.

"Fuck no. I'm not gonna go up there with my best friend's ex and sing a song." She exchanges looks with Britt and then says, "She'd be devastated. She already knows I don't like Gaea so she's pretty pissed at that. I - I just can't, Quinn."

"Alright, I won't force you. I'm gonna go find Sam now."

Maybe switching songs on him last minute won't be the best idea I've ever had, but I can't sing the song I had intended to sing anymore. The song I sing will have to be farewell.

I find him sitting at a table tucked away in a dark corner with Mercedes, the two softly singing Don't Go Breaking My Heart a cappella at each other. They are adorable and I finally have a smile on my face when I approach. "Hey, guys."

Mercedes grins and gives me a hug then forces me to sit. "Girl, I'm so proud of you!"

Well, this is awkward. "Actually," I start and bite my bottom lip. "That's kind of why I'm here. I need to ask you an immense favor, Sam."

* * *

Rachel, being Rachel, is first on the list to sing. She settles on a lone black stool in the middle of the makeshift stage and whispers something to the guitarist behind her. He smiles, laughs a little, and then nods.

A spotlight washes over her and for a minute I forget we're not speaking, we're not together. She looks beautiful. She's in her element. She looks happy. A pang brings me back to reality when I realize she is fine without me. Maybe better.

"It took me a while to pick a song to sing tonight. And then two days ago, it hit me. Adele always has better ways to say the things I keep in my heart and mind. I swear, it's like the girl lives in my mind and probes my brain, writing the lyrics I feel belong to me." Some of the audience laugh and she smiles, carefully scanning the crowd with slits for eyes, the brightness of the spotlight making her blind.

"Anyway," she takes a deep breath and then nods again at the guy with the guitar, "here goes nothing." She begins singing with a nostalgic smile.

_This is how the story went_

_I met someone by accident_

_Who blew me away_

_Blew me away_

_And It was in the darkest of my days_

_When you took my sorrow and you took my pain_

_And buried them away, buried them away_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_Dropped you off at the train station_

_Put a kiss on top of your head_

_Watched you wave_

_And watched you wave_

_Then I went on home to my skyscrapers_

_And neon lights and waiting papers_

_That I call home_

_I call that home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_Away, yeah_

_Woke up feeling heavy hearted_

_I'm going back to where I started_

_The morning rain_

_The morning rain_

_And though I wish that you were here_

_On that same old road that brought me here_

_It's calling me home_

_It's calling me home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_

_When the day is done_

_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_

_But like everything I've ever known_

_You'll disappear one day_

_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_I can spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

* * *

My eyes are still brimming with unshed tears when the host calls out my name three performances later.

Ever since Rachel finished her song and sat back down next to Gaea - Gaea wrapping her arm protectively over the back of Rachel's chair - I haven't been able to look away. This is all so confusing. The lyrics to that song, the way Gaea is acting. Did I jump to conclusions?

I get up slowly, being encouraged by Britt's loud cheering.

I know Santana has been texting Rachel the entire time since the girl was done singing. By this point, the Latina looks extremely pissed off. I try not to think too much about that and make my way to the stool.

The stage manager guy wearing all black finds Sam a stool and a cord for him to plug in his guitar. Sam turns to the other guitar man and tells him the song we're doing and the key. The guy seems to understand and to know which song he's talking about which is good.

I take control of my emotions and hope I can stay in control the duration of the song. It's all I ask.

"Ready," I tell Sam.

He smiles back at me and counts us off.

One_ night to be confused_

_One night to speed up truth_

_We had a promise made_

_Four hands and then away_

_Both under influence_

_We had divine scent_

_To know what to say_

_Mind is a razor blade_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_One night of magic rush_

_The start a simple touch_

_One night to push and scream_

_And then relief_

_Ten days of perfect tunes_

_The colors red and blue_

_We had a promise made_

_We were in love_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_And you, you knew the hands of the devil_

_And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth_

_Sharing different heartbeats_

_In one night_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

_To call for hands of above_

_To lean on_

_Wouldn't be good enough_

_For me, no_

* * *

"What the fuck was that, Quinn?" Santana asks, angrily, when I sit back down. I don't need to hear this again. I have a terrible headache and all I want is to get drunk and go to sleep. Too bad they're not serving alcohol since this is a school event, and not even Santana brought a flask.

"What?" I ask and my eyes go back to where Rachel is supposed to be sitting. She's not there. And neither is Gaea. Great, just perfect. I cross my arms in a bout of immaturity and lean back on my seat.

Santana shakes her head and narrows her eyes at me. Britt puts a hand on her shoulder and pulls her back to say something in Santana's ear. She gives me a sympathetic look and then says, "It's okay, Q. Maybe we should leave, yeah?"

I nod at Britt, happy that someone is on my side. Santana doesn't seem happy with this turn of events and snaps her had to Britt, "Why are you on _her_ side?"

"I'm right here." I tell her as if she didn't know.

"I know," She tells me, "do you think I can't fucking see you over there?" Then she looks back at Britt. "She could just fix this by talking to Rachel but she just keeps stabbing her -"

I stand, enraged, slam my hands open on the table, "talk?! I tried talking. She doesn't want to hear it right now. I don't think she ever will." Britt's eyes look sad and then she slowly looks around us to let me know that people are staring at my outburst. "You guys stay, seriously." I tell Santana. "I'm going home."

Britt comes after me, I hear her chair scrape against the floor, but then Santana mumbles something about letting me go, and Britt does.

I feel extremely alone.

* * *

As soon as I step out the building, I feel the warm air slap my face. I'm feeling really dumb right about now, and I don't think I've ever disliked myself as much as I do now.

Smoking sounds like a good idea. I've only ever smoked once before, and it was awful; my lungs burned and I coughed like crazy. Except that I'm so stressed, shaking, angry, that I feel like it's the only thing besides an orgasm that'll snap me out of it.

I don't have a cigarette, so instead, I gulp down the desire, and start walking back to the cheerleading house on the other side of campus.

I'm not looking straight ahead and end up bumping into a body.

I apologize profusely, as the person pulls up their right foot off the ground and cradles it in their hand. "It's fine," they reassure me.

Making eye contact, I realize how beautiful this girl is. "Hey, I'm so sorry." I say again. "Really, I wasn't looking, I've been kind of not myself late-"

"You're Quinn Fabray," she says and stops me from the rant. I nod and bite my bottom lip. I'm used to people knowing who I am by now. If not as head cheerleader, as Rachel Berry's ex. "I just heard you singing in there," the brunette tells me. She points back at the building where the lights are still dimmed, and says, "you're good."

"Thank you," I shake my head, feeling the blush coming on my cheeks. "I - well, nice to meet you... um?" I ask, extending a hand at the stranger. I feel an instant connection to her, or at least an attraction. It's dark out, and there aren't a lot of students walking around.

The girl takes my hand with both of hers and shakes it a little too enthusiastically, but I've never had anything against enthusiasm. "Sarah. My name's Sarah Martin."

"Sarah, right." I repeat (I can't help myself) and I like the way the name sounds on my tongue.

Sarah pulls out a cigarette from her pack in her ripped jeans' pocket and offers one to me, "smoke?"

It's like the girl can read my mind. I smile and take one from the pack, holding it awkwardly in my fingers. "I don't usually smoke," I admit before I can help myself. I look up at the sultry brown eyes. "This is only my second time." If Rachel saw me now, she'd be so furious. She's always hated smoking because of what it can do to a person's voice (besides all of the other dangers).

Sarah asks, "having a bad night?" She lights mine first and then her own, and places her free hand on her back pocket as she drags in.

I eye her and take a drag too, feeling lightheaded and a little dizzy with the way it fills my lungs. I cough into my fist and then look at her, a little embarrassed. "Try a bad year." She laughs at my statement and I cringe at the way I made myself sound. "Sorry, I'm like, super depressing right now." I apologize to Sarah once again tonight, and she just continues laughing as she smokes.

"Dude, I've yet to meet a pretty girl like you who isn't broken on the inside." Dude. She called me a dude. Usually I'd be offended. If it were a guy, I'd definitely be offended, but there's an easiness to Sarah that makes me smile. Besides, she said I'm pretty. She continues, all nonchalant, "you can tell me - was it a guy who broke your heart?"

She doesn't know who I am, I realize. Well, she knows I am Quinn Fabray, obviously, but probably only from when the host called out my name to sing. She has no idea of Rachel and she doesn't know I'm gay. Is she fishing? Or is she just really trying to know?

"Do you not go here?" I ask instead.

She gives me a half smile, "No. I go to NYU. My friend insisted I come tonight. I had just stepped out to smoke when you attacked me." She jokes and at first I'm caught off guard. When I look up at her with wide eyes and the cigarette dangling from my lips, then I realize she's kidding.

"Attacked you?" I shriek, laughing. I puff out some smoke and cough again, but already getting the hang of doing this. "I did not attack you. It was an accident and I apologized."

She hums, and quirks an eyebrow. Well, damn, she's really attractive. She has an exotic quality to her. I try to shake away these thoughts. I always find myself attracted to the hot brunettes, with exotic eyes, and tan skin. "You're staring. That's kind of rude if you don't tell me you like what you see." She's pretty straight forward, and I like that too.

"I like what I see," I admit quietly and throw the stub of the cigarette on the ground. I stomp on it with the bottom of my shoes and she does the same. "Where are you from? Like, ethnicity-wise."

"I'm part Indian, part French." She tells me and runs a hand through her long, wavy, brown hair. It reaches down to her ass. She's wearing a cut off white shirt, and I notice how toned her arms are. "My mother was from Bombay, and my father is from Nice, South of France."

"Ah," I say, incredibly curious to know more about her. "That's a good mix. Really good," I mumble and look away from her eyes for just a second. To breathe.

"What about you?" She asks. "Where are you from?" I catch her staring at my lips for a second longer than really appropriate and feel heat rush throughout my body. Damn it.

I hear loud voices coming from the building. It seems like open mic night is over as people and more people start coming out of the place. "I'm from Ohio. I honestly don't know much about my heritage?" It comes off more like a question and she shrugs. "Irish, I'm guessing?"

She scuffs the front of her worn out converse on the pavement as she says, "I'm from Texas." I smile, thinking that's kind of neat.

"You don't have an accent," I point out. "A Southern accent. And you're not..."

"What?" She asks, frowning while she smiles, "please don't say 'cowgirl.' Oh my god!" She laughs when I look guilty. "Not everyone from Te_jas _is a cowperson. In fact, you've yet to meet someone who dislikes country as much as me."

I think of Santana and how that's probably not true, and nod along, "so you've never ridden a horse to school?"

She clenches a hand over her heart and gasps for air, "holy fuck. Be more stereotypical, _please_." She thinks really hard and then says, "damn it, I can't think of _anything _to make fun of you for." The chatter outside is getting louder and I turn, looking for a familiar face - Santana, Britt... Rachel. I don't even know why I'm looking. I'm actually having a lot of fun with Sarah, but I can't help it. "Are you waiting for someone?" She asks and nods toward the crowd gathered in front of the university union.

"Nah," I say. "Just - my friends are kind of upset with me at the moment and I just- I - well," awkward cough.

"It's fine, dude. I have to go," she tells me and checks the time on her phone. "But, it'd be kind of sweet if I could have your number. You know, to text you or call if I'm ever around here again." She offers me her phone and I take it, a weird twist in my stomach. It's been a while since I gave someone my number like this. With second intentions behind mine and their actions.

I smile as I punch in the number and warn her, "you better use it."

She says, "duh," as if it's something she was going to do anyway, and I like her more for it.

* * *

I'm not expecting a call when I get back from working out. I pull out my phone from my pocket to check who's calling and smile. "Hello?" I pick up, grinning.

"I'm around," she says simply.

It's Monday afternoon. Two days since the open mic event that I met her. "You come around here often?"

"I didn't, but I have a reason now," she tells me and I hear her sigh, "so are you free to grab lunch with me?"

* * *

"Have you ever had Indian food before?" She asks as she holds the door open to this small Indian restaurant near campus. I shake my head, shy and slightly embarrassed. She smiles, "first time for everything." Her lips are a bold red and I find myself staring.

We settle at the table the hostess takes us to and I ask for a water with lemon. She asks for tea and I try not to groan out loud. "I really hate tea," I tell her conspiratorially.

"Fuck," she says with wide eyes. "Does that mean I don't get a goodbye kiss today?"

I gulp, caught off guard by her wanting to kiss me. "Is that what you were expecting out of this?" I ask. My cheeks are warm and I look at her under lashes, trying to gain some composure. She laughs out loud and ignores my question with a sideways look. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at her.

"You're cute," she tells me, looking right into my eyes.

I giggle, "people usually don't call me cute."

"I don't know why; you are. Sexy, too. Definitely attractive. But cute, endearing." She smiles again and reaches for the tea the waitress leaves on our table. We give the waitress our orders and she leaves.

Looking from her hand around the cup of pee-colored tea to her eyes, I find myself wishing she was Rachel telling me those things. And it's the first time it's happened ever since I met her - for me to compare her to Rachel and wish it was my ex instead. I don't know how to react to what she said so I just smile and thank her awkwardly. If only my thoughts hadn't taken me to Rachel, maybe I wouldn't feel so awkward about being here.

She senses this, "so," she clears her throat, takes in a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and wiggles her eyebrows. "This reason why you've had a bad year... it's _not_ a guy?"

"No," I admit, biting my lip. I don't care to elaborate on the Rachel aspect of it all, but tell her, "I'm not really over it." It's not outright 'you don't even have a chance,' because honestly? She does. In fact, I want to give her one if she'd take it. I want to want her; I want to want it. So it's more like silently asking her, begging her, pleading her, to wait just a while longer. I know we just met, but I know that this could be a good thing if only I gave it a go.

"I'm in no hurry," she tells me. And again she says the right thing. "I know how badly heartbreaks hurt."

"You do, huh?" I ask.

She laughs and says, "never seen a girl as pretty as me who isn't a little bit broken on the inside." It's what she told me when we first me. I laugh at her confidence, though I find it incredibly hot, and she continues, "you wanna talk about it?"

"Honestly?" I ask and purse my lips, "not really." I sigh, "it's way too dramatic and stupid, and not worth my time anymore."

The waitress is approaching us with a basket of bread - naan, I think it's what's called. Sarah just looks at me and then at the basket and asks, "you've never had Naan? Here," she practically shoves a piece of the flat bread at me, "try it."

* * *

"Quinn?" There she is, holding herself in an embrace that shows how vulnerable she is to be here. I applaud her for coming to me again, after the long journey we both have been on. She looks fragile, almost like she's not herself.

I'm in the gym, in my cheerleading outfit, checking inventory before we close the storage unit for the summer. My gaze doesn't seem to want to move away from hers, but I clear my throat and turn away. "Yes? How can I help?"

She scuffles closer, I can feel it. "I - just." She sighs, taking a deep breath right after and says, "Gaea and I are not together. Not anymore. I mean, not since that morning you saw us getting breakfast." She giggles to herself. "We lasted less than a day together. We're better off as friends."

"Are you done?" I ask, turning around with a large box in my hands.

She hurries closer, "do you need a hand?"

"No, that's okay." I can see her face fall but I will myself not to care. "Look, Rachel -" I set the damn box back down and shut my eyes. "Did you go for Gaea to purposefully hurt me or- I don't know. Are you here because Santana told you about Sarah?"

At this piece of information she perks up, "Sarah? Who's Sarah?" She looks worried, picks on the cardboard of a box nearby.

I only give her a look as a response.

She nods and says, "I don't think I can do this anymore-" she waves between us. "Not being close to you, not being your friend. It's awful. It hurts and I hate it. I apologize for how Saturday went down but please, Quinn, can we at least be friends?"

I put both hands on my hips and look at her. Well, I miss her. And summer's coming, which means we'll probably be apart. It's best to be apart but be 'friends' than have all that distance between us emotionally and physically. I sigh since I'm tired of being upset too, "of course we can be friends. I'm sorry too." Stepping closer, I cross my arms. "I'm sorry for the cold treatment."

"You had every right to - you weren't happy in our relationship anymore."

"Rachel, I - it was partly my fault too."

"Yeah," she admits softly. "I don't know, if we ha-"

"No. Let's not go there, okay? It'll only bring heartbreak for us both again." Looking at her eyes, seeing her lips - god, I miss her. It's like even when I can't stand her around me, I can't get enough of it. This is so difficult. I break the eye contact.

She relents, "you're right. Um, so I'll see you around?" She starts to walk backwards, and I watch her.

I grab the box again, "yeah, I'll see you." Before she steps through the double doors, I stop her. "Rach?"

She turns, her hair dancing around her head, and she asks, hopeful, "yeah?"

"How are the boys?" I ask. I know how they are. I keep in touch with Mike and he usually lets me know how Bandit and Benji are doing. Sometimes we even hang out at a park, the four of us. I guess I ask to let her know I still care, and that I miss them. All of them.

She smiles, and the way her nose scrunches when talking about them makes my heart melt, "the boys are doing great. They're amazing."

"Yeah. Well, okay. See you."

She leaves.

* * *

"Summer before senior year, Q. Excited?" Britt asks from her spot near the headboard of my bed. I'm packing to go home. I'm going to visit my sister and little Lea, spend some time with the family. Hopefully see about forgetting a girl as a lover and think of her as a friend.

"Well," I start. "Rachel came by yesterday."

Instantly, Britt's on her knees in front of me. "What did she want? What did she say? What did you say? How did it go? How did you feel? Did you guys make it up?"

"Woah- chill, Britt. Let's go slow here. She apologized. And she wants us to be friends."

"Well? What did you say?"

"I said of course."

"Do you mean it?" She smiles broadly, like this is her life we're talking about.

I smile too, albeit not as enthusiastically. "I did - I mean, I do. I just hope that's enough."

* * *

To say I'm surprised is an understatement, but I definitely don't mind. "Hey, what are you doing here? In the neighborhood again?" I'm folding t-shirts to put them in my suitcase.

Sarah walks in my room with boxes around, clothes strewn over furniture and looks. "If you don't mind, I asked around where I could find you." She picks up a picture of me and Santana in matching uniforms and looks at it with interest. "Your ex?"

I laugh, "no! Definitely not." I look at the picture and I remember that Rachel took it of us on Santana's first game cheering with us. "That's my ex's best friend actually. Now her and I are good friends."

She sets the picture back down and picks up a picture of Mike, Britt and I this time. "You have hot friends."

"Don't I know. It's such a problem, really."

She says, "new friends, especially. Like, way hot new friends." Irking an eyebrow as a challenge, she comes closer.

"Yeah, well, only some of them." She steps even closer.

"I like you, you know," she confesses and my stomach flips. With another step and a delicious smirk, I find myself hoping she kisses me. She's just the right height where I don't have to awkwardly reach higher or lower. "I can't stop thinking about you, ever since we met."

I gulp, "you can't?" I have been thinking about her a lot too, when I'm not thinking about Rachel.

"No, I can't." She grabs the current orange shirt I have in my hands. Our fingers touch and I shiver. "'Scuse me," she says with a tilt of tone of voice, and drops the shirt on the floor of my room.

My breath hitches when she runs her hands down my sides to my hips. "What are you-" before I finish the sentence, Sarah leans forward and presses her lips to mine. I hum in approval and feel her tug me closer. Her thumbs circle my hipbones and her right hand ventures under my shirt and to my back. It sends tingles everywhere.

My hands that were limp next to me are now running up her neck, grabbing onto her hair. Her tongue drags out and licks my bottom lip. I open my mouth and our tongues dance. "I wanted to do this since that night," she admits.

I nod, "you should have." Our kiss breaks naturally and when I open my eyes, hers are still closed, she's smirking.

"That was - everything I imagined it'd be and more."

"I'm glad you came by," I say and run my fingers through her hair.

She smiles again, her lips inviting me to kiss her again. When we pull away, she says, "you're leaving for the summer so I wanted to say goodbye. It's too bad we just met."

My entire body stiffens in her arms. "I - I. Well, Sarah, I can't do a long distan-"

"Dude," she says and picks up her hands. "Nobody's talking about long-distance. I have been thinking about you nonstop, but I'm not trying to ask you to be my girlfriend while you're away. If I still can't stop thinking about you when you're back though, I wouldn't be imposed in trying a relationship then. Short-distance," she finishes and pecks my lips.

Giggling, relieved and a little embarrassed, I ask her, "want to go out with me tomorrow?"

* * *

Santana is braiding Britt's hair on the floor of her room when someone knocks on the door.

"I'll get it," I tell them and get up from the chair in front of the desk. Neither looks at me but they both mumble a thanks.

I cross the room and open the door and Rachel's on the other side, smiling. Her smile falters when she sees me. We usually don't run into each other like this at Santana's because we always text her to ask if it's alright to come over. Apparently there was no questioning today.

"Oh, hey." She smiles again, even though I know this to be forced. "Didn't expect to see you here today."

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon to go home," I tell her but I don't know why.

I know Santana and Britt are paying attention to us now because they stopped talking altogether. Rachel looks over my shoulder and greets them, "hey, guys." Then she looks at me, "are you... Going to let me in?"

I step aside and she comes in, sitting on the same chair I was sitting before. "I didn't know you knocked to come over now."

"It's better to knock than to be surprised by those two. You know that."

Everyone laughs. It's akward but we're trying. The tension is still tangible.

"What's up, Rachel?" Santana asks and goes back to the braiding. We exchange a look and then Britt and I exchange a look.

Rachel's biting on the inside of her cheeks when she tells Santana. "Oh, nothing. I was just - I came over hoping to talk to you but you're busy and I don't want to impose." She swirls around on the chair and faces Santana's laptop. It's open on her tumblr. page and she starts scrolling.

"Fuck off, you know I'm always available for talking. Do you want to go grab a pizza?" She finishes the braid and kisses Britt on the temple. "You don't mind if I go, right, babe?"

"You go, Q and I will give each other manicures!"

Obviously now I want to know what Rachel wants to talk to Santana about, but instead I pretend I don't care. "That'd be lovely, Britt."

Rachel stands and looks at me, "sorry for intruding in on your time with them."

I frown, "What? Rachel, she was your friend first. I don't mind sharing. Besides, we're kind of friends now... So, you know, don't apologize. I'll have Britt, who, we all know, I like better than that one anyway."

Santana flicks me off and Britt kisses her cheek before getting up. She extends a hand to Santana and pulls her off the floor and then pats her on the butt. "Off you two go."

Rachel opens the door and Santana slips through, "bye." Rachel says and slams the door behind her. She seemed so unlike herself. And that's always weird.

* * *

**A/N: Songs are: Adele - Hiding My Heart, and Jose Gonzales' cover of Heartbeats.**


End file.
